John needs a pet
by ThisGayIsOnFir3
Summary: Single John needs company and his heart melts in the pet shop. One shot. Otter!Lock


Otter!Lock

John had had the longest night with Evelyn, her current date. They weren't quite stable, and didn't connect well.  
Why not saying it straight, she was fucking dull. She had spent the whole dinner bluffing about her new computer and how multi-tasked it was, which John didn't understand much about nor did he care.  
She'd talked for so long she ended up having another talk on the way out, complaining about the restaurant because when she finished her point, her food was already cold. John hadn't parted lips.  
9:45 PM, dinner finally finished and John goodbye-d Evelyn and caught a cabby to his solo apartment in 221B. He never needed spare space anyways.

The morning after, Evelyn's call woke him up.  
She said, after half an hour and some sobbing, that they lacked in communication, and John, after all, was not glad.  
He felt so lonely, it had been so long and since Afghanistan he hadn't settled down once. Down from the breakup, John left himself fall again into bed.

Sadly, he had to be at work half and hour later, otherwise he wouldn't be able to afford that lovely flat and that lovely bed, so he got up and got ready for work. He took Mrs. Hudson's morning tea and headed out yelling 'Later!'.

On the way to Saint Bart's, in plain London center, where it's usually too jammed to take a cab and more convenient to take a walk, John checked the new store of the corner's signboard:

'Hugs in Paws'

He had to be at Bart's in five minutes, but he couldn't help it. C'mon, just a little stare. It wouldn't hurt to smile.  
So he drew near the showcase and the first thing his eyes encountered was a numerous rump of otters playing and hitting each other around in a glass box next to the turtles, and in a corner, away from them, the tiniest but cutest of them with a facial expression that looked like he profoundly abhorred the rest of the otters and refused to join their inferior ways.  
John felt the instant urge to enter the pet shop and decided himself at once. When he entered a lady in an apron headed to him kindly

"Oh, hi Sir, have you come for a bird? It's the most common, follow me-"

"Uhh, no, I just wanna take a look at those... umm, are those Otters?"

"Ah, right, yes, those are new, they don't seem to be liked tho, they're in big sale-"

In that moment the lady stepped away to attend another client, and John checked the bill from yesterday's dinner.  
He squatted in front of the box and tapped the glass. The small otter in the corner frightened big for a moment, jumped a couple inches away, falling on one of his (probably) brothers and causing the ramp to aim at him, and John's heart melted.

"Excuse me, you said these are in sale?" He felt dubious.

"Yes, fourteen pound each... are they fighting again? You know what, I'll give you the little one for ten."

* * *

"His name is Sherlock" Said the groomer in charge of the pet shop when she handled him to John in a medium size white cage with a bag of fish-flavored treats. The lady explained to him that the otter would take some time from him, but John wanted it. He just couldn't resist. Plus, he was having enough with women lately.

"Sherlock, hey!" Said John to his new friend when he got from work. He had settled some upgrades in the flat for his new friend to be comfortable-a wide pool for him to bath, his plate and sleeping spot- and made sure Mrs. Hudson took a look in him when he was gone. Sherlock received him shyly at first, he just stayed there looking at him and attempting to ignore the man, but John was in a good mood, he kept petting him, and this irritated Sherlock a lot since he couldn't help but to like it and giggle very loud.

John didn't spend much on Sherlock, he ate very few, and oftenly cleaned himself. He only had to worry about his education, but there was no animal smarter than this damn otter. The first week, John would ask for, say, a pen.

"Sherlock, bring me a pen, hey"

And Sherlock would throw a grunt and slide himself to his master with the pen, right before letting himself being petted by John.  
And things work the other way around too. Some nights, Sherlock would find a new flaw on the flat, or something that wasn't there before, and he would enter Jon's bedroom and wake him up, and John would follow like a zombie to then pet Sherlock at once so he can come back to sleep.  
And some nights, the neighbors released their dogs and Sherlock felt unreasonably scared, so he would slip silently between John's sheets and John would cuddle him between his arms.

"Sherlock! Sherlock get down the cupboard! Come on, I got you a little thing..."

Sherlock, hearing this, came running towards his master and stood in two feet. Then John looked between the bags and grabbed out a tiny navy-blue scarf. He squatted and put it on Sherlock.

"It fits you right in!" said giggling, and the otter climbed into his arms.


End file.
